Turn Around
by PrincessSammers
Summary: What if you could go back and change the past. To make it better. Maybe something like that will be possible for Spike as he is surprised to return to his past...with Buffy.
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer-I know that I do not own Buffy, her world, or anything in it. Those all belong to the genius know as Joss Whedon. You would know if I owned it because Tara would still be living. ;)_

**Turn Around**

**Prologue- Remember**

Thank goodness he didn't live in the high school basement anymore. That place was making him even crazier then he already was. Ever since he had confessed to Buffy, in the church, what he had done while he was away; that he had won back his soul, things had been strained between the two of them, at best.

Living in Xander's apartment didn't help matters any either, he thought as he rolled over on the tiny mattress. He had thought that everything would be magically better now. That it would make him better, as close to a man as he could be. Buffy seemed to have forgiven him for the indiscretion that sent him soul searching in the first place. He doubted that she would ever be able to truly forget it though. He knew that he never would. Memories of what he had tried to do…no…what he did to her plagued his every thought and dream.

At that very moment in time, he wished something that he had never wished for before. He wished that he could have been his former self or at least human. Maybe someone like William would have had a better chance with a woman like Buffy then Spike would.

He glanced at the clock, groaned upon seeing the hour and rolled back over. Determined to go back to sleep.

Far away on the other side of the world was a creature in a cave with glowing eyes who was most definitely not sleeping. With a low voice he spoke as he turned over a rather ominous looking hour glass.

"Wish granted William Pratt…

Wish granted."


	2. Chapter One

_Disclaimer- The world of Buffy does not belong to me it still belongs to Joss Whedon._

**Turn Around**

**Chapter One- The Clock Strikes**

Spike rose from his bed and stretched then prepared to leave his cramped quarters for a bit of late night demon slaying. Taking note of the time, he growled. It was already ten at night. He had wasted perfectly good moonlit hours in which he could possibly see Buffy. He gathered up quickly what little he needed: a flask, a pack of smokes, his lighter, a stake and his black duster and then soundlessly left the apartment.

At about that same time, Buffy patrolled one of Sunnydale's many cemeteries. This, however, was the one that held the most memories for her. Albeit bittersweet memories, she thought as she paused in front of one crypt in particular. Many phantom feelings rushed over her like a flood; conflicting yet intermingled. Fear, anger, disgust, lust, contentment, trust, and something else. Something that she had not felt in several years. She had tried to ignore its existence which is quite different from what she had done with other…men. She still refused to admit it. It was always too strange, too scary, or seemed wrong.

She attempted to clear her mind by shaking her head. Remembering that a trip down memory lane was not why she was here and there were vampires and other nasties lurking about. Vampires that didn't have a soul, an Initiative chip in their heads or platinum blonde hair…

"Three down, only a million or so more to go," She said to no one in particular.

"A million or so more what? Crypts?" Uttered at dry sarcastic voice behind her.

Buffy didn't even need to turn around to know who it was. She knew his voice all too well. She could sense him. Fighting the urge to blush at being caught staring at his old 'home', she responded.

"No. Demons. Vampires. Those kinds of things. If you get on my nerves Spike you'll be next on my list." She turned quickly to face him.

"Ah, love, you know that you wouldn't stake a harmless ensouled vamp," he replied nonchalantly with an unreadable expression.

"No, but I might stake you," Buffy replied loudly.

His eyes flickered for a moment and he reached into his pocket, grabbed his flask and drunk deeply. He was not able to think of a smart retort. This damned soul made him soft. More concerned about her bleeding feelings. But it couldn't keep him from trying to drown his own.

He searched his mind for something to say. Something normal. Something that a normal bloke would say to the woman he fancied…

"So…erm…" he started as he stowed his flask back into his pocket, "…how was work…I mean your other work, at the school?" He finished with a slight cringe. That did not come out nearly as smooth as he had intended it to.

"It was fine, as far as work goes I suppose," she responded slowly with her left eyebrow raised slightly.

To the great relief of both of them, at that moment they heard a soft shuffling noise. It came from the crypt in front of them. They looked at each other hastily and then headed towards the door. Spike pushed the door open and stepped inside first, followed closely by Buffy. Once they were inside the door slammed shut behind them, seemingly of its own accord. All appeared to be much the same as it had been, except a bit more messy and dusty. They looked around but saw no one. Buffy slowly crept towards the small table and saw something seemingly out of place. It was an old and cracked hour glass, the writing upon which appeared to be dripping off of it. She picked it up off the table and turned to Spike.

"Is this yours? I don't remember it and I don't see why anyone, even someone who has been dead for years, would keep such an awful…"

Out of the darkness an echoic voice was heard…

"Wish granted William Pratt.

Wish granted."

As the last work was uttered, suddenly there flashed a brilliant white light.


End file.
